


Redemption is not another man's gift to give

by EssayOfThoughts



Series: MCU Maximoff Oneshots [142]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Guilt, Redemption, blame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 17:16:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13081542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssayOfThoughts/pseuds/EssayOfThoughts
Summary: Wanda looks at her. “They do not see that,” she says. “They see someone to be afraid of.”“They always will,” Natasha says. “But our redemption does not rest in their hands.”





	Redemption is not another man's gift to give

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [MaximoffFicExchange2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/MaximoffFicExchange2017) collection. 



> >  
>> 
>> **Prompt:**
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> Wanda knows she's done things wrong, but she's trying and can't understand why people can't see that. One night It is just too much, and Nat is there to give Wanda a little talk about redemption

Wakanda is… peaceful. There is something to it that settles Wanda’s ever-upset stomach and eases her worried mind, and that the news here will not turn on her is…

It is a surprise. But they do not seem to blame her for the deaths but blame Crossbones. Do not seem to blame her but blame Steve’s distraction, blame SHIELD so slow to respond, blame the million tiny errors that led up to the deaths of their people. But not her.

“It is structural,” T’Challa had said when he had welcomed them to this place. “It is a problem that goes right down to the bones. SHIELD was not careful enough, SHIELD did not have contingencies. Crossbones got his hands on weapons he should not have had and you-” he gestured gently. “Were caught in the crossfire, as you have ever been.”

It surprised her that he had known, but… she supposes now it should not have. Of course he would know. How could anybody on earth not know the destruction she had very nearly wrought for sake of vengeance?

But he does not blame her and, it seems, nor does Wakanda.

Just everyone else.

 

* * *

 

She can still see minds. This is something she does not say. She has shut herself off from touching them, yes, she no longer listens in and hears them, but she can  _ see _ them, still, bright and vast and glowing microcosms of self hidden in each and every skull. The team does not blame her, or at least, the team  _ here _ does not blame her and she knows that Vision does not and never would - it is not in his nature to blame except when he knows absolutely where it is to be placed.

She knows, as much as anyone, that he is as likely to blame himself for his miscalculation before he might ever blame her for failing to stop someone else’s actions.

Others though....

All of America blames her. Lagos fears her. Even Tony Stark, her hate for whom she has packed up and set away with all her grief for her brother and all her desire for vengeance, has blamed her and some part of him might yet hate her.

She doesn’t know. She can’t blame him.

But she sees the memory in Steve’s mind when he looks at her, Tony Stark and the words  _ “They don’t give visas to weapons of mass destruction.” _

Maybe not. But it does not need to be said aloud.

 

* * *

 

They blame her. They will always blame her. She misses the streets, sometimes, where they did not blame her, the other street kids, but looked up to her, the street witch, who knew the secrets of the city and would guide them to safety.

They would not see her as such now, though, that she knows. Not after what she has done, after the destruction wrought on Novi Grad.

She cannot blame them, either.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, sometimes she wishes she could blame someone else. Anything to take this burden off her shoulders.

 

* * *

 

She has carried a burden before. Of course she has. For years, for years upon years, she carried Pietro’s safety upon her back but that was the lightest burden in the world, the lightest burden she could ask for.

Pietro’s burden was her safety and so, together, they helped each other survive.

This burden…

This burden she bears alone.

 

* * *

 

It is very late. Wanda is sitting on the balcony, wrapped in a red shawl against the night’s chill, watching out over the rainforest at the vast glistening statue of a panther.

It is peaceful to do this. The burden remains, yes, but here in the quiet of the night, she can watch out over the rainforest, look at the damp-shining statue, follow the shadow-shapes of leaping monkeys and darting birds, and…

She may rest, if just for a moment, and remember that here, at least, she is not the only one to bear the blame.

Just the one to bear the brunt.

She does not expect for Natasha Romanoff to sit down beside her.

 

* * *

 

Natasha Romanoff is a woman of contrasts - pale skin, dark clothes, hair a rich red. She is contrasted elsewhere as well - her past is full of blood and pain and her present and future seek to spare others that fate. Her mind is a contrast too - a pure white plain of snow, a bleak blue sky, and always distinct unless something is very wrong.

And yet she sits next to Wanda, her hands around a cup of water, and follows her gaze to the stars.

 

* * *

 

“You bear a burden,” she says, after a long stretch of silence.”Of past errors and mistakes.”

Wanda does not scoff, does not look at her, barely registers her comment but for two flicked fingers and a nod made in scarlet. 

“Don’t let it define you,” she says. “They’ll try to make it define you but-”

“They do not have the right.”

Natasha’s smile is slight. “Yeah. That.”

Wanda shrugs. “It only helps so much,” she says. “They still will blame me, even when I am not the only one to blame. They will still hate me.”

“They will blame you,” Natasha says. “Because you are a woman. Because you are foreign. Because you can do things they do not understand.”

Wanda looks at her, scarlet dimming in her eyes. 

“They will blame you,” Natasha says, “No matter how hard you try to wipe out the red in your ledger or make amends for it.”

“That is what they did with you,” Wanda whispers. “So why bother any more?”

Natasha’s smile is knife-sharp and deadly. “Because we are better than that. Better than them. Clint taught me that I could change myself, but Laura taught me to be free. Do you know how you do that?”

Wanda wonders. Has she ever, in all her life, been free? In all her years has there ever been a time unburdened by worry or by duty, by concern or by fear? Wanda can think of none. Wanda shrugs.

“To be free,” Natasha says. “You must know your goal, know your limits, and know what you will not do and why.” Her hand reaches out, takes Wanda’s gently in hers. “We make amends. You’ve done that and have been doing that. You fought Ultron, you saved Sokovians, and even when you lost your brother you stayed on and you tried to be more and to help more.”

Wanda looks at her. “They do not see that,” she says. “They see someone to be afraid of.”

“They always will,” Natasha says. “But our redemption does not rest in their hands.”

Wanda thinks she can see the shape of what Natasha means in her mind. Slowly, she nods.

“Our redemption,” Wanda says slowly, “Depends on what we make of it.”

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments!


End file.
